


How To While Away These Bleak Autumnal Evenings

by Maribor_Petrichor



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom John Watson, Fingering, Hair-pulling, John!lock, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Rimming, Spanking, Top Sherlock, Top lock, bottomjohn, toplock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-08 05:39:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10379688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maribor_Petrichor/pseuds/Maribor_Petrichor
Summary: John is flirting with someone other than Sherlock and the detective doesn't take too kindly to the slight.





	

Sherlock entered their flat a good ten swift paces before John, not once bothering to look behind him.

“You’re still not speaking to me?” John said as he stepped inside and shut the door.

“I’m speaking to you as much as is required.” Sherlock replied, removing his coat and scarf. Wordlessly he headed to his laptop, sat in his chair and began typing.

“You’re angry though I haven’t even the slightest idea as to why.” John said, crossing his arms and staring at his friend.

“I’m not angry, John. Perhaps you’re projecting. It wouldn’t be the first time.” He replied quickly, trying to keep his tone even. Even and casual. He didn’t entirely succeed.

John scoffed a bit and shook his head before hanging up his own coat.

“Let’s see, you were fine when we left Baker Street, we went to the club and split up to cover more ground. I spoke to the bartender, the parking attendant and that fellow at the-”

Sherlock adjusted his jaw but didn’t look up from his screen.

“That’s it.” He said though the tone conveyed a bit of disbelief. He walked towards Sherlock and stood before him crossing his arms. “You’re cross because I was talking to that bloke.”

“What bloke?” Sherlock asked but even to his ears, it sounded unconvincing. His mind raced back to the scene at the club. John chatting. John leaning forward. John smiling. John flirting. John, apparently getting the man's number. Yes, he’d noticed that exchange. But he hadn’t told a lie. He wasn’t angry. He was _furious_.

“You know very well what bloke. You’re jealous because you think he fancied me.” John said with what Sherlock found to be an insufferable smile.

“Bit vain, aren’t we, dear? You were buying him drinks. I think he was more interested in the liquor.”

“Hmm...then I wonder why he saw fit to pass along his number?” John said holding up a slip of paper triumphantly.

“And you took it?” Sherlock replied, locking his eyes to John’s.

“Yes, I took it. There is a man going about London, hacking people’s fingers off and sending them in the post. This might be a lead, of course, I took it.”

“Fine, all for the case then. Understood.” He released a long suffering sigh trying to continue with his work.

“You really are remarkable, you know that?” But there was no admiration in his voice that Sherlock could detect and it wasn’t a question.

“Thank you.” He replied shortly.

“If you’d had a problem you could have come over and said something, _done_ something. For once in your bloody life _do_ something!”

The anger in John’s voice jarred him and he frowned, wondering where it had come from.

“John...?” He said finally looking up.

John held his hands in front of him, a gesture that clearly demanded he stay put.

“No, you know what? Don’t bother, Sherlock, just don’t bother.”

Sherlock watched as the doctor stalked out of the room before suddenly stopping and turning on his heel. With just as much purpose as he exited, he reentered, this time pointing a finger.

“And another thing, ownership...having someone cannot simply exist in your mind. If you want to claim something then claim it.”

He turned now and left for good. Moments later Sherlock heard his bedroom door slam.

The detective closed his eyes, the sound of the door rattled the frame and him as well. John’s anger was unexpected. He attempted to regain focus and go back to what he'd been doing. He had things to accomplish, things far more important things than soothing the fractured ego of...

Whose ego was it that was fractured again?

He tried to put his feelings aside, for nearly 15 minutes he tried. Tried to ignore John’s harsh words and the distinct feeling in the air that things were terribly unresolved. Eventually, he realized it was no use.

He stood quickly to his feet and stalked towards the bedroom. He knocked but as expected received no answer. The sound of the shower assured him he hadn’t and wouldn’t be heard. Sherlock entered the bedroom and walked over to the nightstand removing two items. Without invitation, he then entered the bathroom as well.

The figure behind the glass froze for a moment before cracking the door and looking out.

“Sherlock, what are you doing?” John asked with an exasperated sigh. He raised a hand to his face to wipe away the soap and water from his eyes.

He didn’t answer at first and instead calmly began to unbutton his shirt. Once done he laid it atop the closed toilet lid he then went to work on his trousers, unzipping them, removing them along with his pants and setting them too on top of the lid. The nightstand item he set on the edge of the sink.

“Why exactly are you starkers in the loo?” John asked, his voice wary but not unwelcoming. He seemed to be observing the situation, willing to see where it might lead.

“Isn’t it clear to you?” Sherlock said walking forward. He opened the shower door all the way and stepped inside.

“Not remotel-” John began but his words were cut off by a rough kiss.

Sherlock let that serve as his answer as he edged John against the wall, not hard, but solid enough to press him against the tiles.

It took barely any time at all for John to return the kiss and soon Sherlock felt eager hands on his waist and hips.

“Sherlock, what are you doing?” John repeated but softer this time, his tone entirely different.

God but he was gorgeous, John dripping wet, John, _oh_ , John half hard, apparently, John with his hair darkened by the spray of the water, having changed from blonde to dark, dark brown.

“Laying claim. Letting you know to whom you belong.” Sherlock said before continuing the kiss. He slid his tongue past John’s lips and the other man gave a surprised sort of groan before returning the favor.

Sherlock noted John’s responses to the kissing was getting more and more enthusiastic as he moved from eager to attempting to assert dominance. That was good, that was precisely what the detective wanted for him to believe, that he had the upper hand and then...pull away.

He drew his head back, the spray was raining down on them both. The heat of the shower had filled the room with steam but he knew for a fact that wasn’t the reason John’s cheeks were flushed.

The good doctor tried to lean in again, attempting to pull the detective closer but Sherlock stood his ground.

“No, I don’t think so. You seem to have forgotten the point of this lesson.” Sherlock paused and took one step back gazing at him with naked appraisal. John’s cock was fully hard now, and looking good enough to lick but he had to keep focused. “Turn around.” he said finally.

John eyed him for a second, quirking a half smile that was part challenging and part curious.

“Why?” He asked brushing his wet hair from his face.

“Because I told you to.” He said calmly. His own erection betrayed his excitement but his voice was still obeying him.

His mate wavered for a bit, he wasn’t used to giving up control and certainly not this kind of control. Despite or perhaps because of being ex-Army he naturally balked at orders being given, but this time he grudgingly agreed.

Sherlock watched as he turned and faced the shower wall.

He was amazing. Compact, muscular frame, strong and glistening with beads of water. Sherlock wanted to taste every inch of him. He pressed his body tightly against John’s and started kissing the back of his neck.

“I...I didn’t expect this.” John said, his voice a bit breathier and higher than usual. “All because I-” He stopped talking as Sherlock licked behind his ear.

“Because you what?”

“Because I flirted a bit. Because I called you out?” John replied and Sherlock watched as he started to reach for his cock.

“No. Not yet.” Sherlock grabbed his wrist holding it firmly.

“Sherlock...fuck...ple-”

He wanted to beg. Sherlock could feel it, it almost fell from his lips but he willed it back.

“I said, not yet. Put both your hands on the wall and leave them there.” Sherlock commanded.

Wordlessly he did as he was told and internally, the detective was elated. He was shocked but delighted at how well this was going. He had a plan. A loose plan but a plan just the same. Returning to his original focus he kissed John’s shoulder and the scar that remained. He busied his hands with running them up and down John’s chest and over his abdomen and then proceeding just a bit lower before stopping. Purposefully he pressed his erection against the doctor’s arse and listened as John groaned in response.

“Touch me.” He said in a voice that as far as Sherlock was concerned contained too much cheek.

“I’m sorry. You must be confused, so, allow me to explain. You are not in charge here.”

The doctor scoffed and sighed rather dramatically.

Momentarily frustrated by this lack of respect for his rules, Sherlock, Impulsively, gave John a harsh smack on the arse. The latter jumped in surprise and quickly turned his head to catch Sherlock in a narrow-eyed gaze that dared him to do it again.

He took him up on the dare, maintaining eye contact..and spanked him again.

“Fuck.” John said in reply, his voice tight.

“Eyes front, soldier. Now, answer me, did you like that?”

Sherlock saw the stubborn set of John’s jaw and the way the muscles in his neck flexed. It seemed clear he had enjoyed it. What he was unsure of was why he didn’t want to admit it.

He spanked him again.

“Answer me!”

John made a sound low in his throat, turning his face away before letting his head fall forward.

“Yes, God, yes, I liked it, do it again.”

Sherlock grinned broadly knowing John couldn’t see him.

Another smack, hard and sharp, the sound rebounding off the slick echo-y walls.

“I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Ilikeditpleasedoitagainplease.” He said running the words together.

Discipline and the doctor. This evening was yielding all sorts of surprises. John the flirt. John who enjoyed a pleasant swat on the arse. John...the reluctant submissive.

The minds races.

He smacked him again and could have sworn he saw him arch just slightly and belatedly into the contact.

“We’re you ever going to tell me you wanted this...any of this?”

“Couldn’t.” He grunted out.

“Couldn’t?” Sherlock replied. Another swat. “That’s fairly impertinent. Why couldn’t you?”

“I...I didn’t know how.” John replied and the softness in his tone made Sherlock pause. Moments like these, sexual or otherwise confused him at times. Did he go on? Did he break for the emotion?

John made the decision for him.

“Don’t stop but we need a safeword.” He said.

“What?”

“Safeword. We need one.”

“O-okay.” Sherlock’s mind inconveniently went blank.

“Cedars.” John said quickly.

Ahhh The Cedars. The sight where it first almost happened. One room, two beds, no heat. They’d been forced to climb in together, forced to share space and warmth. Forced to ignore absurdly prominent erections and instead try to go to sleep. They didn’t speak of it the next morning and instead went about business as usual. It was undoubtedly one of the most ridiculous experiences in their shared lives and it most certainly did not make its way into a blog entry.

“Cedars it is.” He agreed and spanked him again. The flesh was wet and pinking up quite nicely and Sherlock alternated cheeks absolutely entranced by the sounds John was making.

“Is that what you do? Go around giving men your number?” Sherlock said and he had no idea where it had come from.

“No.” He says softly and it’s barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t hear you. If you can’t speak up perhaps I’ll just stop.”

“No, no, please don’t stop.” There was the begging. “My answer is no, that isn’t what I do.”

“Have you fucked any of them?” He asked, finally letting his free hand slip down to his own cock, stroking it slowly.

“No, Sherlock.”

“Why should I believe you?” He asked swatting him again. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Because I’m telling the truth.” He said with a mixed combination of arousal and indignance.

“Do you want to know what I saw? I saw a man who was quite an eager little flirt. Basking in the attention all the while shamelessly craving more. Did you like the way he was looking at you?”

“Fuck...” He groaned but Sherlock wasn’t sure if it was a due to a well-placed spank, the fact that he could see Sherlock masturbating to the sight at his side or his need to touch himself.

“Yes, I liked the attention. I liked how he was looking at me.”

“What else?”

“I like how you look at me.”

That was enough to throw Sherlock off his game momentarily. “Who says I look at you?”

“You look at me all the time. You think I don’t notice but I do. You look at my neck, my hands, my waist, my crotch, my arse. You have a filthy little mind, Sherlock and then you blame me for you not acting on it.”

Sherlock paused at having been dressed down so thoroughly but rebounded as quickly as he could.

“I hope that little soliloquy was worth it.” He said as he rained down spanks on John’s bare arse. He waited between each one listening for “Cedars” but it never came. Instead, John only moaned louder.

“That’s so fucking good, Sherlock, for fucks sake, yes!”

His hand was starting to hurt but he didn’t quite care.

“Have any of them fucked you?”

“No, Sherlock.”

“Say again, Captain?” He snapped at him.

John swore softly, more than likely at the use of the word Captain in this situation and it thrilled Sherlock to no end.

“No, Sherlock...” Then he added. “No, ...sir.”

Oh this was too, too delicious.

“Good boy.” Sherlock now brought the hand that had been attending to his own straining cock to John’s. Wrapping it around his erection he began to stroke it slowly. “Is this good?”

“Yes, ...sir.” He said emphatically

“Shall I make you come?”

“Nearly there, ...sir.”

“Keep your hands on the wall but turn your head and kiss me.” he ordered. These commands felt daring and dangerous and yet John seemed far more willing to comply at this point. He did as he was commanded, turning his head and craning his neck to be kissed as Sherlock corkscrewed his hand up and down his cock.

“Aren’t you going to fuck me?” He asked and there was just the hint of a whine to his voice that Sherlock had never heard before. “Isn’t that what you’ve wanted to do all night...sir?”

Every “sir” came with a pause before it, it was always bitten off from the rest of the sentence.

“No.” Sherlock said simply. “Not until you learn to address me with respect and it isn’t grudging.”

John pressed his lips together, knowing he’d been caught.

“I didn’t ask you to call me that, John. You effectively volunteered. Now, either have the courage of your convictions or keep your mouth shut.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“I think, due to your insolence, I’d prefer it if every first and last word out of your mouth was sir.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” And if it were possible Sherlock felt himself grow even harder. There weren’t very many times John let his military training or past show. But Sherlock had been lucky enough to bear witness to his flatmate pulling rank on more than one occasion. And it always, always became prime masturbatory material for later on that evening. An appearance of Captain Watson always made a very large impression on him.

“Good boy.” He said before kissing his neck, sucking hard as he stroked his cock. “I want you to come while I spank your arse.”

“Sir...oh God, yes, please, sir.”

He started spanking him again, slowly at first, watching John wince and groan and wince and gasp with each strike as he worked his hand up and down his erection.

“I want you to tell me when you’re about to come. If you don’t I shall be very put out.”

John seemed to be beyond speech at this point and only nodded. His cock felt hot and hard in his hand and Sherlock was a moment away from asking the doctor to put his hand on his own.

Watching his lover’s face was a marvel, the tension, the relaxation, the way his lips pressed tight one moment as his mouth fell a bit open the next, the furrowing of his brow, the healthy pink flush to his cheeks, the way he kept his eyes shut tightly as he focused...

“Sherlock...sir....I’m coming.” He whimpered and Sherlock quickly removed his hand from his arse, popping his finger in his mouth. Just as quickly he returned it to John, parting his cheeks and pressing his wet digit to his hole and ever so slightly inside. The intrusion did not go unnoticed at in the midst of his orgasm John’s body jerked and clenched around him.

Sherlock moaned along with the doctor as the latter came hot and hard all over his fist. He gladly coaxed him through his orgasm and all those lovely little tremors that followed. As John quieted, going soft in his palm Sherlock brought his hand up to his mouth making a show of licking it clean of ejacualte.

“Fuck..Sherlock...” John whispered his voice a combination of both wonder and awe.

“There was no sir there but I’ll let it pass.” He replied relieved that he had somehow managed not to come. He didn’t want to, not just yet. “Do you like my finger there?”

John nodded again dropping his head forward.

“I wish it was your cock.”

“Patience.” He said slowly removing his finger. He felt the expectation coming from John. He expected him to move behind him and move behind him he did. He expected to hear the opening of the lube bottle and feel the head of his cock press against his entrance.

Instead, Sherlock dropped to his knees.

“What...are you?”

“Hands on the wall, bend forward a bit and stop asking me questions.”

John quickly did as he was asked and Sherlock placed a hand on each cheek, kissing before gently parting them. Without further preamble he pressed his tongue against his entrance.

The sounds that came from John’s mouth were nothing he’d ever heard before. A high, surprised squeal followed by what might have been a sob. Sherlock didn’t stop to check and instead focused on the task at hand.

“GodfuckingDAMNIT, Sherlock, that’s...that’s...”

“I know it is, love. Enjoy it.” He said before returning to his work.

John tried to collect his bearings and failed delightfully. Sherlock could tell he’d never experienced this before and felt a surge of pride. His gasps were louder, his moans longer and he just knew his cock was getting harder again as he tongued him. He changed focus for a minute giving a few passing swipes to his perineum his tongue flat and wet, his movements rhythmic. This went on for a few wonderful minutes that. he imagined, for both of them seemed like an eternity.Finally he noticed the quavering of John’s legs, the broken cries and torrent of swears interspersed with some of the loveliest pleas Sherlock had ever heard.

“Sherlock...please...I give...Mercy...Uncle...Parley...White Flag...whatever you need to hear but please just fuck me...”

Sherlock smiled and slowed the ministrations of his tongue before finally stopping them. Rising to his feet he opens the shower door and grabs the conveniently placed lube. He drizzled a healthy amount onto his fingers and as John keens, he slowly inserted a finger. He worked it in slowly with gentle thrusts, stretching him until he appeared ready for a second and finally a third.

“I didn’t know you had this in you.” John said with lusty admiration. “Please, Sherlock, I’m ready, please.”

“Alright, John, alright.” he soothed as he removed his fingers.

Another stream of the thick lube for his cock and he too was ready. He pressed against his lover’s entrance and was gifted with feeling John’s hand reaching back to grab his arse already wanting to pull him deeper. He didn’t care that he’d taken it off the wall as he’d been instructed not to do. At this point his need to relieve his aching cock overrode everything else.

He entered him slowly, enjoying John already pleading for more. Once he was fully sheathed inside him he’d wanted to take a moment, catch his breath and steady himself but the doctor had other ideas. He started to grind back against him, working himself on Sherlock’s cock demanding the detective spring to action. With no other option Sherlock put his hands on the doctor’s hips, guiding his moments, doling out the pleasure as he saw fit. To his surprise, yet again, John seemed willing to submit, and when he was committed to the rhythm established Sherlock removed one of his hands and placed it in John’s hair.

“I waited so long for this. You feel so good inside me...fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

He gave him what they both wanted, long, slow deep thrusts.

“You sure you don’t wish I was the pub bloke?” Sherlock said deciding to prod him.

“Shut up, Sherlock.” He said immediately.

“I just thought you might prefer his cock to mine. I also figured now would be the best time to get an honest reply.”

John decided not to dignify that with an answer.

Without warning the hand that had been running fingers through John’s hair gripped the strands and gave a short tug, yanking his head just slightly backward.

“Who do you belong to?” Sherlock breathed in his ear. He wanted an answer, in fact he needed one.

John chuckled breathlessly.

“I’m not saying that, mate.”

“Oh, you’re not?”

“No.” He said the defiant little smirk evident on his face.

“No?” Sherlock asked as he gave his hair a harder yank. At the same time he moved them both forward, pressing John nearly flat against the shower wall and stopping his movements completely.

The doctor swore in protest.

“Fuuuuuck, Sherlock...please...”

“Who do you belong to?” He asked again emphasizing every word.

“You, sir.” John hissed from between his teeth.

“And this?” He said grasping his cock. “Who does this cock belong to?”

At that moment, Sherlock decided this kind of power surpassed any similar high he got from heroin.

“You sir.” He replied and when Sherlock gave another tug to his hair he groaned. Ah, so he enjoyed that as well.

“And this?” He said cupping a still sensitive arse cheek. “Who does this impossibly tight arse belong to?

“You, sir.” He said without any pause at all.

“Now, was that so hard?” He asked releasing his hair and returning his hand to his cock. “Oh, I guess it was.” he teased.

“Wanker.” John said with a breathless laugh that ended with a moan as Sherlock resumed moving again.

Feeling his lover was finally properly chastised he upped his pace and John widened his stance, bending his knees as Sherlock thrust harder inside him. He wouldn’t last much longer, neither of them could it seemed.

He was first, coming deep inside of John with a gasp, a moan and a few choice swear words of his own. He kept thrusting through the tremors and as John clenched around him, coming in his hand Sherlock could have sworn he orgasmed again as he called his name.

They stood there, panting. John supporting himself against the wall, Sherlock leaning against John.

It was the former who finally broke the pleasant silence.

“Alright, John...I stand corrected. That was, in fact, a lot of fun.”

“Didn’t I tell you?” John replied gleefully. “And can I say, at the risk of gushing the way I did when we first met. That was remarkable. You should listen to me more often.”

“In execution, it was very exciting. As presented it sounded ridiculous.”

And it had. When John had mentioned to him last week it might be fun to spice up their lovemaking with a bit or role-playing Sherlock immediately imagined he wanted him to wear the hat to bed or worse.

But he’d actually had a much more brilliant and simple plan in mind.

“We play ourselves. Or how we were years ago. One of us flirts with a stranger, prompting the other to get jealous and finally come to terms with their feelings.”

Sherlock was surprised that the idea had so intrigued him. First, it was a game with no time limit, they’d decide when to start and then the one left to witness the flirting would just have to deal with it for as long as they could. The second reason, was that it was emotions he knew all too well. He was no actor and it would have been too difficult to play, say, mountain climber and sherpa. When he’d presented that example to John as something he couldn’t and didn’t want to do his husband had burst into laughter so long and loud it had made Sherlock blush...but eventually he’d laughed too.

This he could do and in fact he wanted John to be the object of desire. It would be an interesting test of his limits to see how far he could go, how long he could last before jealousy got the better of him.

As it turned out he’d managed to make it about 5 hours.

His purposefully petulant behavior on the cab ride home, 97% of which was acting, had alerted John that the game, was in fact, on. The doctor then began to respond accordingly making sure to escalate their row.

It was so pleasant to still be inside him but reluctantly Sherlock pulled out with a groan that John matched.

“By the way, I thought you were going to come over and rescue me from that guy, you arse.” John said turning to him with a grin.

“I know you did but I wanted to let you stew. I wanted the emotion to be real. That was the only way to ensure the game was passionate.”

“It was real alright. Been holding that spanking trick in your back pocket for awhile, eh? I had no idea.”

“It was a calculated risk that you’d even like it.” Sherlock said with a blush. “The shower is yours, I’ve taken up enough of your hot water already.”

With that, he stepped out and grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste from the cabinet.

“When have I ever said no to kink when it comes to us?”

“True.” Sherlock replied with a mouthful of foam.

“I let you tie me up on our 5th anniversary.” John said as he started to resume washing then rinsing his hair, a task Sherlock had interrupted when he'd entered. “Then I wore the cock ring on your birthday.”

“Ahh yes, the cock ring. We really must try that again.” Sherlock said as he thought back to that evening.

“Sherlock...you know I’m not unhappy or disappointed with anything with us right? I think when I used “spice up” that may have been an insensitive term. That implies that, I don’t know, I find sex with you dull or bland. I don’t. I just...”

“You what?” Sherlock asked turning his head as he watched John exit the shower.

“I worry sometimes _you_ may be bored or get bored. You like puzzles, you like games. You’ve essentially unlocked every riddle of my body.”

“John, you are as open a book as you were the day we first met. If you were getting bored of us in bed I likely would have been aware of it before you were. As for unlocking mysteries of your body, I’m fairly sure your response to rimming just there proves there are far more mysteries left to solve.”

John kissed the ball of his shoulder and smiled at their reflection in the mirror.

“Yeah, I really, really liked that by the way.”

“I gathered.” Sherlock replied cheekily. "More to the point. I'm not with you because you're fantastic in bed, though you are. I married you because you ran away with my heart. Because you showed me the advantage of caring."

“Thank you, love."

"Of course."

"No, really, Sherlock, I mean it. Thank you." John said as he kissed him again.

"And I mean, of course and you're welcome."

"Speaking of the rimming," He said grabbing his own toothbrush. "I’m going to have to try that on you as soon as possible.”

“That’s only if I don’t leap to try it on you again.” Sherlock replied breezily though there was still a thought that was nagging at him demanding to be addressed. He sighed in resignation. “I have a question for you.”

“Fire away.”

“Earlier, during the “argument”, your voice was very convincingly elevated...when you demanded that I do something, make a move. I thought I detected real anger there. Was I right?”

John frowned and then smiled softly. He finished brushing his teeth and turned to his husband.

“First, thank you for inadvertently complimenting my acting skills. And in a way, you were right and wrong. That was old anger, anger I don’t feel anymore and it was just as much directed at me as it was to you. I didn’t make a move either, not in those early days. I didn’t tell you what I thought I felt. I pushed it further and further away and I blamed you for it. I may have been channeling something but trust me, it’s long dead. I love you. You’re my husband and I love you and you make me very happy.”

Sherlock released a breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding. This reassurance was everything he’d needed and those little worries that had been needling him vanished.

“Thank you.” He said softly as he drew him in for a deeper, longer kiss.

"You're welcome."

“I waited so long for this.” Sherlock teased, echoing John's words from earlier. “What nonsense, we last had sex this morning. Very good sex, if memory serves. Though I seem to be doing all the work today. I rode you before breakfast and I just gave you an amazing shag in there.”

"Did I use the word _amazing_?"

"If you didn't, surely you meant to."

"Can we play this again?" John asked hopefully.

"Of course we can. But this time I'm the one who gets to flirt."

" _Can_ you flirt?"

"I got you, didn't I?"

"I know I can hold out longer than you can."

"Alright, it's a wager. Say the word and the game is on."

* * *

 

**A/N: So yeah, I could have summarized this by saying Sherlock and John are stable, happily married, kinky little sex pervs who like to mess about with toys and in this instance flirty, make-him-jealous role playing.**

**But what would be the fun in that?**

**Not quite an M. Night Shyamalan twist, but I'm happy with it. I hope you were as well. :)**


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